


Headfirst In the River

by macabreverbosity



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist!Kylo Ren, Bipolar Disorder, Bisexual Phasma, Blood, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Gay Hux, Grey Ace Kylo Ren, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Hux is Not Nice, Hux is wrong here, Hux's dad is an asshole what's new?, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Internalized Homophobia, Kid Fic, Kind of..., Kylo Ren and Rey Are Related, Kylo is not nice either, Lesbian Rey, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Pining Hux, Poetry, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Writer!Hux, they are both morons, which are both later resolved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6613603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabreverbosity/pseuds/macabreverbosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most things that fall apart can be fixed, and yet the cracks still show. However, with time, wrongs can be righted and marks erased with the right efforts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Move, is what they say_  
>  _Sell them the bones that they love to hear break_  
>  _I said move to another birth place_  
>  _Yours truly sincerely oh, I forget your name._  
>     
>  _Would you believe they wanna know about me?_  
>  _I wear my lungs upon my sleeves_  
>  _And that one there might as well be_  
>  _filling his shot glass with gasoline_
> 
> \- "Headfirst In the River" By Envy on the Coast
> 
> The explicit rating is for later chapters, I already have around 5 chapters written so they will be posted as fast as I can edit them, really. I hope you enjoy this, despite it being different from my usual work. let me know what you all think; godspeed.

Kylo was sitting at his table, sketching; all he ever seemed to do those days was sketch. Different faces, different concepts—his hand moving with the pencil methodically, just letting it glide on the paper, lead his hand where it may go, let the drawing manifest as it may. The bold lines and sharp contrasting shadows stared to take form into a familiar face and Kylo stopped himself abruptly from continuing. 

It always came back to the same point.

He threw his pencil across the room where it landed with a thud behind the sofa and crumpled the paper he’d been working on, drawing half finished, throwing it, too. He ran his hands through his hair, hanging his head above the tabletop, his fingers clenching the strands in two fists and tugging. Why did it always have to come back to this? it had been three years, plenty of time to forget, to move on, to get over himself.

“Apparently not,” he said out loud more to himself than anyone else.

He got up after a few minutes of self-pity and silent reminiscing. Life went on despite all his qualms and reservations; besides, he had things to do and no one was going to put their lives on hold because Kylo couldn't keep his together.   


***   
The class was always half empty on Fridays, the students preferring to take long weekends now that their scholastic freedom was nigh unlimited, what Kylo wouldn't give for the luxury of that blasé attitude. 

Kylo took a seat at his messy desk and started to unpack his things, ignoring the students already sitting at their respective work tables, patiently waiting for his instructions.

Today they would be doing a free period of sketching, Kylo was always the type to encourage his students to be as creative as possible, he was hell bent on nurturing the creative spirit that, most likely than not, had been curbed by one deterrent or another; but imitation was not something to shirk at either. Artists learned from observation and repetition—you couldn't draw something unless you had seen it before, after all.

“What we’re going to be doing today is a free sketching period.” he started to explain as the students seem to awaken from their inattentive stupors, some blinking at him owlishly, “what that means is I want you to be as original as you can, which means I want something  _ good _ , something uniquely your own, but remember, something unique can be made of many different mundane components so don’t be afraid to use that in your projects.” He smiled at them reassuringly, as a few students seem worried, looking at him with wide almost panicked eyes, “This will be due next week, but start now and get an idea of what you would like to do, and as always I am available for questions, queries and your complimentary sarcastic remarks.” Kylo smirked as most of the class roll their eyes and smile despite themselves, familiar with his off kilter and often simply tacky remarks.

Turning his back on the classroom, he sighed and loosened his tie—the damn thing felt like it was choking him—as he headed back to the desk and sat down heavily on the rickety old chair, it creaked alarmingly under his weight. Art department budgets were truly a thing to marvel at, how the art department was still open at all was something truly extraordinary. The building, the classroom, even the old rickety chair he was currently sitting on were all the same as when he was a student himself in this same university, albeit he was more into photography than manual arts at that time, he'd since fostered a certain appreciation for things he could make and mold with his hands.

_ What am I doing? _ He asked himself not for the first time in the past how ever many years and sighed inaudibly.

His art was doing well, he had had shows and sold paintings and photographs, his name was starting to get around in the art scene but still he couldn’t bring himself to quit teaching. He didn’t deal well with change.

Change was all that ever seemed to happen with Kylo and for once he wanted just a semblance of stability in his life. Once upon a time the facsimile of structure had appealed to his artistic sensibilities, but now he required something concrete to keep the ground from falling from right underneath his feet.

Sometimes he felt like a collection of odd, mismatched parts flimsily held together and the only thing that kept him here—grounded—were the things that didn’t change, didn’t leave him. His house and his job were constants in a world that was a whirlwind of sensations and situations—near constant, uncontrollable chaos around him.

When did everything change so much? He already knew the answer to his question; that single event that had triggered the already imminent downward spiral that had occurred, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

His thoughts were interrupted by the high-pitched voice of a confused looking brunette, asking him if her perspective was correct or if she needed to change anything about her drawing.

Back to work.   


*** 

“No, Mom…Well, yes...but,” Kylo sighed as his mother’s voice continueed to drone on about how Kylo should visit more, and how he was leaving his old mother alone now that Kylo’s brother had another baby and he was far too busy to visit as often as he used to. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having at 4 p.m. on a Monday. Or ever, really.

His mother, Leia Organa-Solo, was a short stout woman with hair always in a severe updo and a glare that could freeze a person in their tracks when she was of a mind to utilize it. In her time, his mother had been a respected artist, albeit a traditional one. Kylo adored his mother, but she was a bit too much to handle at times.

“Speaking of which, dear, can you pick up Viv from daycare tomorrow? Your brother is drowning in work and Lyra’s still in the hospital, it would be a huge help to them.” Kylo really did not have a choice here, he adored his little niece, Vivica, and his sister-in-law was a sweetheart who everyone was glad had been willing to marry his brother.

“Yes, of course, Mom, tell them I’d be happy to,” he sighed into the phone, trying to mask his reluctance as simple fatigue.   
“Don’t sigh at me, it makes you sound old, Kylo. You’re only 27 years old, live a little, my darling boy. Have fun!” a low voice intrudes in the conversation and his mother’s muffled voice is audible over the phone line, clearly talking to someone else, probably his father; judging by the low baritone filtering in from the headset; she laughs and returns to their conversation, “In any case, darling, I’ve got to go now, but don’t forget about Viv. Remember, at 2 p.m, I know how you are with time. Stay safe, I love you.” 

She hung up without saying goodbye, a weird little quirk his mother had, that goodbye brought with it a certain finality that was bad luck. His mother was...odd, but he supposed it explained a great deal about himself, in retrospect.

After hanging up, he sat there for a long time, staring at nothing in particular…merely thinking, about nothing and everything at once. 

When the room began getting dark, long shadows cast across the floor of his living room, he got to his feel slowly and headed towards his bedroom to go to bed. Another day ended and another waiting in the wings.

***

Vivica was an energetic 3 year old that liked to tell stories she'd made up in her cute childish lisp. It always melted Kylo’s heart to see his little niece happy—skipping and singing, her dark brown curls bouncing around her chubby cheeks. She was precious and Kylo adored her as though she were his own daughter.

Kylo arrived at the daycare a bit early and waited the last few minutes alone in his car. He was not good with people in general, but especially not parents. Parents seemed to find him off putting, for the most part. 

Kylo wasn't exactly sure what it was that irked them so thoroughly, but he thought perhaps it might be the neck and arm tattoos; possibly the piercings, or perhaps his tendency to loom and glare at people. The Art department wasn’t exactly strict with their dress code, after all they paid people to model in the nude for half of their classes; being “proper” was not necessarily a major priority, and his usual business  casual attire was his, largely futile, attempt at commanding respect.

Retrieving the key from the ignition, he made his way to the daycare. When he walked in, he was attracted, first, to the hall with children’s art tacked to cork boards and he made his way from board to board, perusing each piece as he waited for the children to begin filtering out. Child art was by far the most interesting as it pertained to subject matter, their associations were beautiful and unique.

Quite a few of the papers had Vivica’s name on them, she had gotten better since he'd last seen her art; it seemed that his mother had been busy training a new generation of artists while Kylo had been slaving away trying to make a name for himself. His chest clenches painfully with guilt, as he realized how long it had actually  been since he'd bothered to visit with his family; his art—his work—taking precedence, as always.

Kylo heard the rapid pitter-patter of footsteps right before a small body collided with his leg and hugged it firmly in two chubby arms. He looked down and all that was visible was a mass of unruly dark brown curls. He disentangled the girl’s tiny arms from around his leg and swung her into his arms as she giggleed excitedly.

“How is my little lady bug today?” he asked her teasingly, dropping a kiss on her cheek that made her giggle.

“Uncle Ky!” she squealed and hugged him excitedly, Kylo winced slightly at the mangling of his name, “Are we going to draw today? Can we finger paint? Can we please?” she asked, words rapidly tumbling from her mouth, as Kylo attempted to balance her small bouncing body in his arms.

“Not today, bug. Mommy and Daddy asked me to come pick you up,” he explained to her patiently, her face fell slightly and his heart clenches at the sight. “But…” he continueed as she looks up at him hopefully, “I could stay a while and teach you how to paint some flowers, that sounds good, yeah?” she clapped her hands and hugged him again. Kylo truly was unable to refuse her anything at all.

“Come on, let’s get going so we can get those lessons started,” he cajoled as he set her down and grasped her little hand in his.   


They reached the double doors and when they opened Kylo was met with the face of the one person he never thought he’d—nor wanted to, for that matter—ever see again.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now with 100% more Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _It seems like you have forgotten._  
>  _We'll carry on until we fall._  
>  _Please don't say that this is the end._  
>  _If all of this is possible,_  
>  _Why can't I just see you tonight?_  
>     
> \- "Die In Your Arms" by Crash Romeo

“Uncle Ky?” Vivica asked, eyes going wide as she looked up questioningly at her uncle; who was standing, eyes fixed on a shorter man blocking the doorway, his expression one of shock; as though he’d seen a ghost.

Kylo looked down sharply at his niece as if awakening from some nightmare, “it’s okay, bug,” he reassured her in a quiet brittle voice filled with tears, as she started fidgeting nervously with the hem of her red t-shirt when no one had moved. The silence stretched for a moment where all motion seemed to cease—the sounds and colors seemed to leech out of their surroundings—Kylo’s eyes downcast and fixed on a warped spot in the linoleum.

Kylo raised his eyes again—slowly, deliberately, defiantly, travelling up the other man’s body almost by reflex—to look Hux straight in the eyes. He wasn’t going to shrink back, he wasn’t the same person he had been three years ago—timid, naive, unassuming and foolish—and he refused to look away as though he had to hide—from this, from _him_. _Kylo_ had nothing to be ashamed of.

***

Hux could barely believe his own eyes—eyes that prickled uncomfortably with the phantom pinpricks of unshed tears, feelings he would not allow himself to feel just that moment, lest his mind be tricking him like it had so many times before; dangling what he most wanted to see right before his eyes and then cruelly snatching it away once he dared to reach out.

Hux had honestly never thought he’d see the man before him ever again; he’d hurt him enough times and so thoroughly each and every time, that he felt sick to his stomach thinking about what Kylo must feel about the current situation. What he’d done, what he’d said.

He didn’t deserve the chance to see Kylo again.

He’d been Ben Anakin Solo another lifetime ago, Hux had heard that he went by Kylo Ren now. At the time, it had seemed an oddly sinister name for the young man with a sweet disarming smile and wide fathomless eyes that one could drown in. Now, Hux thinks he understands the new moniker. Kylo looked nothing like Ben, except for the eyes, those never changed.

 _His hair is longer_ , Hux noted absently; it also looked several shades darker, perhaps dyed an inky black. There were the teasing hints of tattoos on his neck and wrists, peeking out from his leather jacket; tiny silver hoops in his ears catching the light and a silver barbell through his left eyebrow.

Hux had always loved Kylo, perhaps as far back as their first meeting when Hux had been around twenty-four and Kylo had been around twenty. They had started out as friends after a fashion, they bickered bitterly and near constantly; and yet...and yet, that split second of realization as grudging admiration turned to love was something he’d had never been able to forget. The feeling of overwhelming happiness and…belonging.

Hux had a penchant for fucking things up when things were going great for him…or not so great, as well; emotional intimacy had never been one of his strong suits, he’d always been told it was a weakness to be avoided at all costs, if you did not care there would be nothing to use against you. _Emotion was a weakness to be eradicated or at the very least excised gradually,_ His father had always said.

Hux had met Kylo close to seven years ago and that particular day his manuscript had been turned down by the fifteenth publisher he’d sent it to. He hadn’t been able to get anything published; for three years he’d pitch idea after idea; send manuscript after manuscript and get rejected, one after the other. He’d had enough, he couldn’t figure out what he had been doing wrong; too naive and young to realize that he would never succeed on talent alone; he’d still been starry-eyed at the prospect of becoming a writer—a serious one, like Faulkner or Hemingway. By that time, in the same tradition of Hemingway himself, he’d been up to his eyeballs in alcohol with no way out in sight.

It had been the third bar on a Saturday. Kylo had been drinking alone—armed with a fake I.D.— _he barely looks old enough to be drinking_ , had been the first thought, followed quickly by _he’s beautiful_. Hux had approached him, almost sober by the time they struck up a lengthy conversation—Kylo had been enthusiastically discussing the validity of the horror genre as a legitimate genre of literature as soon as Hux had said he was a writer. Hux had never laughed as hard or as genuinely as he had that night. Kylo had been enthusiastic and yet slightly reserved, but funny and attentive. Hux had been instantly charmed by him.

They’d dated, for years—four to be exact—and yes, Hux had fucked that up, as well.

He had tried to pick up the pieces of his life, tried to feel right about himself but he never could quite manage to. His father’s constant looming presence a fixed staple of his life; a near constant critique of his perceived weaknesses—his sexuality and his career choice, which to his father’s ire was not military in the slightest.

Hux was a disappointment, to put it bluntly. He was attracted to the _wrong_ gender, he was committed to the _wrong_ career and he was _weak_. Alcohol had been a coping mechanism for as long as he could remember, it had only gotten out of hand those last few years, with nothing stopping him from indulging. Hux, for a time had tried to please his father, but he could not give Kylo up. Until it had gotten too much. Until he’d had no choice.

He’d thought getting married and having a family would fix everything—would appease his father, back when that had actually meant something to a young Hux—being _normal_ would fix everything. Whatever the fuck normal _was_ , anyways. He’d learned otherwise after one disastrous marriage had left him with a healthy dose of reality and a child he loved more than anything.

Kylo looked very different from the timid man he’d been seven years ago, and still more from the man Hux had left three years ago. This Kylo looked rough and jaded, like he’d sooner punch you than shake your hand and even though it probably should not have—he had no right—it was completely doing it for Hux. It was like looking at a wild uncontrollable fire and feeling compelled to touch, to hold, to burn in that brilliant light. Kylo had always been brilliant.

Hux had been so preoccupied with staring—drinking in the minutiae of Kylo’s features as though he were water to the parched and committing those details to memory—that he only belatedly noticed the small girl with brown ringlets—the same shade Kylo’s had been when they’d been dating and he was about to ask, when a shrill cry of “Daddy!” intruded before he’d even started, and his daughter came bounding down the hallway, stopping abruptly behind the two people blocking her way to her father, her small head tilting to the side at the obstacle.

Kylo looked at the girl—horrified, hurt, betrayed, every emotion he shouldn’t be feeling churning in his stomach, making him sick. It was one thing to know, to hear, but something very different to see. He hadn’t been prepared for this, not at all. He would never be prepared for this. They’d talked, years and years ago about having a family, a small girl or boy to call their own. Looking at Hux’s daughter, all Kylo could think was; _she should have been ours, she should have been mine._

Fighting to keep his composure and not scream and lash out at the nearest breakable object; Kylo scooped Vivica up into his arms, so he wouldn’t hurt her by accident with his furious gait and ignoring her surprised little squeak, he shouldered Hux out of the way—the brief contact only exacerbating his anger—before striding purposefully toward his car and leaving.

Lilianna looked up at her father curiously and asked about the weird stranger man; Hux shook his head, telling her not to worry about it—“ _It was just someone daddy was friends with_ ”—before taking her hand in his and leading her quietly to the car. As he straps Lilianna into her car seat he realizes that even after all this time he still could not bring himself to say it out loud, to acknowledge that part of himself that would never leave him and the one person that would never stop haunting him.

Today had been exhausting in more ways than expected.

***

Kylo was still shaking a bit with anger by the time they’d gotten to his brother, Jacen’s, house. Jacen would mostly be in his office now pouring over invoices and tax sheets for his new gallery opening, he’d been practically glued to his phone when he wasn’t by his wife and children’s sides.

As soon as his brother opened the door and hugged his daughter he’d asked Kylo what was wrong. Jacen had always had a special sense when it came to Kylo, sensing his moods even when Kylo had said nothing about them, he’d once told Kylo his face was like an open book, that he didn’t need Kylo to tell him anything.

Kylo didn’t know what kind of face he was making but he could feel that it wasn’t exactly pleasant, the muscles and skin felt pinched and tight. All the anger drained out of him and he’d been left with only a hollow sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he wanted nothing more than to be home—somewhere familiar, where everyone would just leave him alone. He didn’t need this now, not ever, in fact.

He made his excuses to his brother quickly and made plans with his niece—more like his brother—to have dinner on Saturday since Lyra would be out of the hospital by then and Kylo could stop by when the rest of family was there to see the latest addition to the family—little Alexander Solo.

Kylo made his excuses to his niece, promising her that he would take her to his studio after his next art show and she could paint on the large canvases like grown-ups do. Nodding quietly in acknowledgement to his brother and kissing his niece goodbye, Kylo left as fast as he feasibly could without seeming too eager to be home and blissfully alone. He did not want to think, he just wanted the world to stop for a few hours and give him a break.

***

Hux was distractedly eating dinner with Lilianna the next time he got to think about everything that had happened in the day. He was still miffed from an earlier phone call from his ex-wife, Phasma, and everything just seemed to be working against him. He’d honestly never thought he’d see Kylo again, mostly because he had actively avoided him for years, he’d thought it for the best and he hadn’t had the guts to own up to everything he’d caused and let happen; to admit how big of a mistake he’d made; how much of an asshole he’d been. However, looking at his daughter, he couldn’t bring himself to think of her as anything but a blessing, even if her mother was stubborn and his marriage had, in fact, been a regrettable mistake.

After getting Lily settled—tucking her in and reading from her favorite story, _The Little Prince_ —Hux was finally able to lay down in bed with his cup of coffee in one hand and the book he’d been reading, on the bed beside his thigh, as he let his mind wander freely.

He had often thought of what would have happened if he had stayed with Kylo all those years ago. He had always come to the same conclusion, nothing would have changed. Back then he’d been a young fool who hadn’t recognized what he had had until he’d lost it—no that wasn’t fair— _until he’d thrown it away_ , his mind supplied helpfully.

He was doing well for himself now, he had a job—a steady book deal and a few short stories for anthologies lined up, which kept him and his daughter living comfortably if not overly luxurious, and he was two years sober.

The one thing that always made him act reckless and out of sorts was something he had had to quit completely, there was a certain point you reached in your life where you realized that you either had to help yourself get off the ground or you would really end up dead in the gutter. He’d realized that the hard way after waking up one too many times and realizing he’d lost whole weeks, not merely a few hours or days. Hux could hold his liquor but the ungodly amounts he’d been imbibing were enough to down an elephant.

He’d changed a lot, for all the right reasons, but yet when he’d had something to fight for before he’d foolishly run away, instead. He hadn’t been cognizant of how bad he had been getting, he could function just fine under the influence, and yet he had been blind to all the signs of his downward spiral. His wake up call had been the birth of his daughter.

Holding that tiny life in his hands had been surreal, looking into her blue eyes, he’d silently vowed that he would take care of her, love her, and give her everything his father never could give him. He’d slipped up that first year, Phasma helping him occasionally along the way for the sake of their daughter, more than anything else, but he’d stuck to it; he’d made it.

He wanted a chance to apologize, a chance to make right things he shouldn’t have let go wrong, he wanted…he wanted…

He sighed, he wanted a lot of things. All of which he didn’t deserve.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s where I earn that explicit rating. kind of.
> 
> (Poem: "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" By John Donne)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I'm not a martyr, I'm not a prophet,_  
>  _And I won't preach to you, but here's a caution;_  
>  _You better understand, that I won't hold your hand,_  
>  _But if it helps you mend, then I won't stop it._  
>     
>  _Go on and save yourself, and take it out on me._
> 
> _Drown if you want, and I'll see you at the bottom,_  
>  _Where you'll crawl on my skin and put the blame on me, so you don't feel a thing._
> 
> \- "Cochise" by Audioslave

“So, what can I help you with today, Be—Kylo?” Dr. Payton greeted Kylo amiably, attempting to cover up her mishap with a wide welcoming smile as they both take their respective seats, opposite each other in the large office that was the therapist’s private practice.

Kylo let out a derisive breath before contemplating where he should begin with what was going wrong with his life; besides; of course, his constant ennui and the appearance of a certain person in his life that caused some conflicting feelings. On the one hand Hux looked good—healthy. Even if Kylo didn’t really want to admit it, he was happy to see him alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere. On the other hand there was a part of Kylo that wished he could push Hux into the ditch himself.

“I don’t know where to begin.” Kylo confessed tiredly. He rubbed a hand down his face in an attempt to both alleviate and hide his weariness.

Kylo did not enjoy talking about his emotions or about himself in general, really. But the therapist was a must after his thoughts had taken a much darker turn.

Kylo had struggled with his mental health from a young age, mental instability a constant in his otherwise whimsical and unstable life. He’d moved out of his parents’ house at the tender age of eighteen with the help of his grandfather, who had given him an apartment and a relatively small trust fund as part of his inheritance. Anakin had always been a staunch advocate for Kylo’s chosen profession, even when Kylo’s father, Han, had been derisive but begrudgingly supportive.

When Kylo had been younger, he’d struggled with his constant and violent mood swings; at first his parents had been baffled by the whole ordeal—frustrated and worried for their son but far too busy to juggle his issues and their careers simultaneously. Kylo had often been left in the care of his grandfather, those memories though, were tinted grey by the man’s passing nine years prior.

Eventually, Kylo’s mood swings had escalated to destructive outbursts that had prompted his parents to seek help from a psychiatrist. Kylo had been put on medication for bipolar disorder for many years until he’d become addicted to the drugs in his teens, managing to successfully keep his addiction hidden from all his relatives. He’d been clean for nearly four years before having to go back on the drugs upon his doctor’s orders; he’d also been put on suicide watch for the duration of a month. Three years later he took the medication on a needs only basis.

Remembering the events of that time three years ago and the worried looks he’d gotten from his parents and even his brother, Kylo felt the guilt and failure rest soundly on his shoulders, like the burden of Atlas being thrust unto him.

Kylo just wanted to be left alone.

“Tell me about what’s happened since you were here last week, then.” Dr. Payton smiled at him patiently, a small encouraging smile.

Dr. Clarissa Payton was a tall woman of about thirty-five, she always dressed impeccably well and had a perpetual smile on her face. Kylo had always wondered how she was able to keep smiling after hearing about people’s misery for countless hours each day, he had even went to the trouble of asking her out right once.

“It’s not an issue of their misery,” she’d said simply, “it’s an issue of knowing you can help them out of it. That’s what keeps me smiling.”

Kylo took a deep breath and reminded himself that he trusted her and that it was okay to talk to her without reservation. That this was a safe space and Dr. Payton would not judge him or think him foolish in any way.

“I saw him again.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat, “On Tuesday” he added belatedly. There wasn’t really any doubt as to who Kylo was speaking of. Many sessions had been spent trying to sort through the multiple issues that were lingering after everything that had happened three years ago. Hux was ever a presence in the sessions but was never spoken of directly, like a spectre in the room that no one spoke of but were very aware of.

Dr. Payton’s smile melted into a tight lipped expression of concern.

“Continue,” she said.

“He has a kid. A-a daughter” he stuttered over his words as he recalled the girl with red hair and blue eyes, and a light dusting of freckles on her little pert nose. He took a deep breath, feeling as though his chest were collapsing in on itself; “We didn’t really talk or anything, I had my niece with me,” He continued.

She made a sound to signal her attentiveness and gestured with her hand for him to continue, “Yes and how did that make you feel, is there anything you want to do in that regard?”

If he was being honest with himself—which he was not—he would’ve said _I want to see him again_ , but since honesty was out of the question, “No, nothing,” he said instead. He gets another tight lipped look of concern and winces. Dr. Payton was a friend as well as his therapist, therefore it was only natural that she would be concerned about Kylo now that Hux had reappeared in his life. It; however, was no consolation to Kylo; he hated being a source of worry to anyone and yet, he always seemed to be whether he tried to or not. It felt wrong being the center of attention in any situation, he had always been put second when he’d put everyone before himself.

Cringing slightly at the direction of his thoughts, he scrambled in his head for a diversion and came up blank, “Can we not talk about this anymore?” he said, instead, with the slightest note of desperation in his voice, willing the doctor to grant him this one reprieve.

Dr. Payton stared at him for a while longer before nodding slightly; sensing Kylo’s hesitance to talk and avoided pushing him for the time being. There would be other opportunities. Dr. Payton had learned that pushing Kylo into anything often lead to him retreating into himself rather than opening up, thus it was always wiser to be patient, there was always time.

Kylo let out a relieved sigh and relaxed into his chair, as they carried on the rest of the conversation.

On the ride home, Kylo thought over everything that had been talked over in the session and felt content with the outcome. They had talked about his upcoming show that was taking place at his brother’s gallery as a grand opening, about Kylo’s hopes for his art, and about his mental well-being and medication; and they very conspicuously avoided the elephant in the room—Kylo, content to leave it be and Dr. Payton biding her time. The only black spot on Kylo’s mental radar had been the earlier encounter with Hux.

He tuned it out of his thoughts and turned up the radio where they were playing some classic rock song he couldn’t remember the name to, but remembered every word, and that’s the last he thought of the matter as he sang along, fingers drumming on the steering wheel to the beat.

 

***

 

Hux was hoping that his ex-wife would be able to pick up Lilianna and wouldn’t have any last minute plans that would prevent him from his current mission of finding Kylo Ren and getting a chance to talk to him…or even just see him again, really. Beggars and the desperate could not be choosers, after all.

Hux already knew where Kylo lived. He hadn’t left the apartment they’d shared three years ago, it had been his to begin with and Hux had merely moved in. Hux was not foolish or naive enough to think that it meant anything that Kylo hadn’t moved. _Kylo_ wasn’t the one who had had anything to be afraid of, anything to run away from.

So he waited patiently in his car; parked across the street with a clear view of the building’s entrance. He had tried the intercom several times to no avail so he’d resigned himself to waiting. He should’ve gone home but he figured he wouldn’t have to wait too long, that Kylo would eventually show up. He hadn’t exactly been aware of how long was _too long_.

It had occurred to Hux at some point that what he was doing would count as stalking and was various levels of wrong and illegal, no matter the perspective. However, he couldn’t take a chance of missing Kylo before he entered the building; nevermind the fact that he needed the element of surprise on his side for this. Kylo was stubborn to a fault and would find a way to avoid him if he were to go through more traditional routes—like, say speaking to him like mature rational adults would prefer.

Hux reasoned that once Kylo entered the building there would be no way Hux could follow without measures that would validate a restraining order and a charge of breaking and entering plastered onto his record. Considering the fact that he was thirty-one and had never been in jail once in that time period was something he liked about himself, it was something he would like to keep as such if it were in any way avoidable. So there, he watched and waited for any sign of Kylo’s arrival.

While Hux waited, his mind began to wander, the prospect of seeing Kylo for more than a fleeting glimpse dredging up memories that Hux would have rather kept hidden where they caused no harm.

_The light softly filtered through the window from between parted curtains; cutting across the bed sheets in patterns of sunset’s hazy orange red._

_The bedsheets were tangled around their bodies and hanging half off the bed, rumpled and warm._

_Kylo had his head cushioned on a pillow and a cigarette between his lips; taking a drag and letting the smoke curl out from his nose and mouth, the sheets thrown haphazardly over his hips, leaving his chest bare. Kylo_ _’s other hand was lazily tracing patterns up and down Hux’s leg as Hux rested on his stomach, an old and worn volume of poetry in front of him beside Kylo’s outstretched leg._

_Hux was reading out loud to Kylo because he knew it always calmed him—put him at peace when his mind became too much to handle, whirring like the constant grind of machine gears, insistent and deafening._ _Hux’s steady voice was clear and dulcet in the otherwise silent room as he read;_

_Dull sublunary lovers' love_

_(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit_

_Absence, because it doth remove_

_Those things which elemented it._

 

_But we by a love so much refined,_

_That our selves know not what it is,_

_Inter-assured of the mind,_

_Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss._

 

_Our two souls therefore, which are one,_

_Though I must go, endure not yet_

_A breach, but an expansion,_

_Like gold to airy thinness beat._

 

_If they be two, they are two so_

_As stiff twin compasses are two;_

_Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show_

_To move, but doth, if the other do._

 

_And though it in the center sit,_

_Yet when the other far doth roam,_

_It leans and hearkens after it,_

_And grows erect, as that comes home._

 

_Such wilt thou be to me, who must,_

_Like th' other foot, obliquely run;_

_Thy firmness makes my circle just,_

_And makes me end where I begun._

 

When Kylo finally did arrive, it took Hux a moment to break out of his reverie to notice at all. Hux made a rather undignified show of exiting his car and running to catch up to him; narrowly missing being turned to road kill as he dashes across the street in time to catch the door as Kylo walked through it.

Kylo looked up at him with one hand still on the door, his expression blank, but his eyes snapping with anger.

“Can we talk?” Hux asked. Self-preservation could go to hell.

After a few moments of silent contemplation, lips pressed together into a thin line and eyes narrowed; Kylo nodded and started toward the alley adjacent to the building. Hux followed quietly behind him.

 

***

 

Kylo was fucking furious. _How dare he. How. Fucking. Dare. He_. Was it not enough for him to barge into his life and bring back everything Kylo had tried so carefully to keep under control with him, but he also had to keep showing up whenever he damn well pleased? This was not how it was supposed to be, he was supposed to stay away from him. _He’d_ left. He’d willingly left, why did he keep coming back?

Kylo stopped in the middle of the alley, not too far in that it would be a chore to walk back and concealed enough by shadow for the conversation that they most likely would have—no passersby would be able to see them. Kylo knew how much Hux loved his discretion. _As long as nobody saw_ he thought bitterly.

Hux turned around so that they were now face to face, in front of each other and Kylo paused for a moment, unexpectedly taken aback. The sight of Hux’s face filled Kylo with unexpected and all-consuming ire and something inside his chest just snapped; a dam breaking and flooding his entire being with white hot rage.

He took the two long steps required to get in Hux’s face and punched him.

 _My knuckles hurt._ He thought vaguely before picking Hux up by the lapels and slamming him against the brick wall.

There was a line of blood from Hux’s nose trailing down his lips, and Kylo could not fucking _stand_ him.

He kissed him forcefully, teeth clacking together painfully and lips biting and bruising from the force, it wasn’t sensual or sweet or anything that they’d ever shared before. It was passionate and dirty and full of lust and hatred.

Kylo’s tongue swept across Hux’s lower lip and he moaned at the taste of blood mixed in with the familiar taste of Hux. Kylo bit down, hard, on Hux’s lower lip causing him to shudder and drive his tongue back into Kylo’s mouth for more.

 _I’m going crazy_ is the first thought that Kylo had, and he really should have done something other than continue to kiss Hux but he really did not particularly want to, especially since he had forgotten why he shouldn’t have been kissing him and most importantly, why it shouldn’t have felt so good.

Hux’s murmured “ _so good_ ” against Kylo’s lips broke something in Kylo and soon he broke off the kiss to trail is lips down Hux’s neck, sucking bruises and biting; leaving a trail of splotchy blue-greens and teeth marks littered along the delicate skin there and lower, across Hux’s collarbones. Kylo’s hands struggled for purchase, grabbing fistfuls of Hux’s shirt and yanking, wishing they were skin to skin.

Hux’s hands made their way to Kylo’s waist, sliding down and into the back pockets of Kylo’s jeans, cupping and kneading Kylo’s firm ass. Kylo lets out an appreciative moan against Hux’s collarbone before shoving Hux back against the brick wall, a bit harder than strictly necessary.

“Don’t touch me.” Kylo practically hissed as he deftly managed to unzip Hux’s jeans.

Hux could barely breathe—let alone argue the point that _no, fuck you, Kylo, I want to touch, goddammit_ —as Kylo shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs and wrapped a large hand firmly around Hux’s length. Hux’s vision blurred slightly at the edges; a moan torn from his chest as Kylo began jacking him off; thumb swiping over the tip and twisting on each upstroke. Hux’s head tilted back, his eyes falling closed as a stream of unintelligible babble—praise, profanity and pleas blurring together—fell from his lips; all the while, Kylo continued to stroke him, his rhythm bringing Hux closer and closer to completion.

“I lo—” Hux almost managed to blurt it out—he needed to say it, he hadn't said it before and he needed to say it, the need like a physical ache—before Kylo’s hand came flying up to cover his mouth and stifle the rest of Hux’s sentence.

“Don't you _dare_.” Kylo growled and Hux would have been more inclined to argue the point had he not been coming,—back arching and shoulders pushing back against brick, digging into the flesh painfully; sending pleasant shivers and spasm up and down his spine. Kylo removed his hand from Hux’s face and replaced it with his lips, swallowing Hux’s moans and whimpers as he worked him through his orgasm.

They parted, lips swollen and bruise, blood smeared across them. They paused for a moment, foreheads pressed together so close, their lips barely touching, breaths warm on each other's lips.

“I _hate_ you.” Kylo said in a low rough voice, locking eyes with Hux and breathing heavily.

Pushing him back once more, Kylo almost runs out of the alley, leaving Hux half slumped against the wall, pants still down his thighs and cum drying on his shirt, with only one thought on his mind.  


_What the fuck have I done?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh look, Phasma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It might take some time_   
>  _But I really think we can start things over_   
>  _Take a look out our lives_   
>  _Take a look at how fucked up we've become_   
>  _In the bloodshot eyes_   
>  _All I see is pain and devastation_   
>  _And now I'm hating myself_   
>  _I never should've shut you out_
> 
> \- "Walking Dead" by Papa Roach

This was what Kylo’s therapist would have described as “unhealthy modes of self-expression.” They had talked over that extensively and he was fairly certain that assaulting someone did not qualify as something excusable.

Kylo hated his fucking life at this exact moment in time. He hated his fucking luck. He hated Hux. And most of all he hated himself.

What he was _supposed_ to be feeling was nothing. What he was feeling in reality was the almost irresistible urge to go back and punch Hux a couple of more times. Oh and of course kiss him, because that was a thing he was doing now, apparently.

 _Stupid, stupid._ He mentally chastised himself as his long strides brought him to the door of his apartment building and he shoved it forcefully open.

He slumped against the closed door and just breathed as tears of anger and humiliation stung in his eyes. He wouldn’t cry, he refused to. Absolutely not.

His lips were swollen and throbbing, he could taste blood and could feel the rhythmic pulse of a freshly opened cut, his tongue probing along his bottom lip prodding the cut as it continued to throb, tiny pinpricks of pain zinging across his senses.

His anger carried him as far as his narrow corridor—he didn’t even recall going up the stairs or opening his door—where he sat on the floor, his back to the wall and hugged his bent legs to his chest; resting his forehead on his knees and just concentrated on breathing, slow measured breaths.

All of his anger just fell away like autumn leaves, leaving him as bare as the trees they fall from. He just felt hollow and bitter.

How was this his life?

He had had a good life—boring and uneventful—but nonetheless good. It gave him purpose and direction and now he didn’t know what to do or where to go anymore. Hux was messing with his whole equilibrium. He felt itchy and off-balance. Kylo didn’t like losing control, despite the fact that he seemed to always find himself in that situation near constantly. It had happened once—not a minor issue this instance at least—and it had destroyed his carefully cultivated life leaving an irreparable hole behind. That, too had also been Hux’s fault.

He touched his lips experimentally where they still tingled with sensation and shuddered. He was hard and he felt like going back down there and forcing Hux to take care of what he’d caused but he had more dignity—and moral fiber—than that. He’d rather jerk off in the bathroom, or better yet stay completely celibate, than let Hux lay a finger on him again. No matter what his body had to say on the matter. It didn’t really matter that Kylo had touched Hux, it didn’t matter, it all did _not_ matter. All that mattered is that Hux did not touch him, he couldn’t allow that.

_Damn it all to Hell._

Kylo cursed under his breathe, why did it have to be Hux? Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be Hux he felt like this about? Kylo typically did not experience any sort of sexual attraction—he could appreciate attractive people but he did not want them to touch him neither did he want to touch them. Not like he wanted Hux to touch him, at least.

It hadn’t really bothered him, his seeming lack. At the time, He’d been pleasantly surprised with his reaction to Hux; he had supposed he just had a _type_ , or he supposed it was just Hux as a person. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d so fervently wished for that lack to apply to Hux, as well.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

 

***

 

Several moments later, Hux was still slumped against the wall trying to wrap his mind around what had happened. His mind was playing and replaying the kiss and subsequent handjob on loop and he did not comprehend what had happened in the interim that it had taken to follow Kylo and get punched, kissed, and touched so wonderfully it was almost like a dream, in that exact order.

He was still trying to reconcile the man he’d once known and loved with the man that had practically assaulted him in an alley. He was amused despite his cuts and aches. Nothing he wasn’t used to after his many stints with alcohol—he’d been a belligerent drunk, he’d been told, Hux had rarely started fights but he did end them. He winced as he wiped the lingering smears of blood from his nose and lips, pushing away from the wall and tucking himself back into his slacks.

He was coming to the realization that the person he’d fell in love with was not the same person he had once been and to Hux’s surprise, he found that he did not mind the change much, as long…well, as long as it meant he would get to kiss him again—see him again. Which in retrospect was a rather obtuse thing to wish so fervently for. Especially if it entailed possible physical assault, but he supposed he deserved it—if he were being honest, he deserved much more than just a punch and a few cuts and scrapes.

Hux made his way slowly to his car and sat in the driver’s seat for a long time, letting the waves of rejection and realization wash over him, before he started the car and made his way back home.

He had a precocious three year old to deal with and less time on his hands than he wanted to think about.

 

***

 

Hux opened the door to his apartment, eerie silence greeting him only interrupted by the quiet thud of the door clicking shut again. Something felt off.

He put his keys in the bowl on the table in the foyer and took off his shoes to put them in their designated spot—neatly lining them up beside his daughter’s tiny black Mary Janes—before fully entering the apartment and finding his ex-wife on the couch quietly smoking; she’d opened his bottle of whiskey, as well—the finest he kept around for guests; it also happened to be locked in the safe in his study but that was a question for another time. Phasma was resourceful when she wanted something, questioning her methods would only lead to haranguing he was unwilling and unprepared to endure.

Phasma was a beautiful woman. Anybody with eyes could appreciate her lightly tanned complexion and wide blue eyes that were set into and angular and proportional face. Her severely short blonde hair only seemed to emphasize the sharpness in those eyes.

“Welcome back.” she greeted in a light tone meaning that he would do best to take a seat because she had something to discuss with him. The joys that he lived for, knowing his ex-wife, this was likely to be unpleasant.

Phasma was not a particularly malicious person and neither did Hux really have any ill will towards her, not in any real capacity at least.

It had taken Hux a not inconsiderable amount of time to realize why their marriage had never reached beyond the year mark—beside the obvious reason—they had very similar personalities and Hux supposed that was what had caused a great deal of discord. Hux and Phasma were much too alike to ever truly get along well. Neither one of them had been looking for their one true love in the union, both had had fairly similar goals and expectations from the marriage, it was mostly a business transaction. Hux wanted to make his family happy and Phasma had presumed that Hux would make a suitable partner for a long term commitment.

And that was where things had begun to truly go downhill. Hux hadn’t been able to forget Kylo—to move on from him—and Phasma had mostly been bitter over the increasingly erratic behavior. Hux had not been a good husband and he knew it. Phasma had not realized the frustration of marrying a man who was emotionally unavailable.

The one thing they could both agree upon was they worked better as friends. Reluctant, as it were; however, their child was their priority so they put their petty squabbles and dissidence aside and tried to make sure Lilianna had both their support and love.

“I heard from Lily that you ran into an ‘angry stranger man with lots of tattoos’, is it who I think it is?” she ashed her cigarette and took a long drag as she awaited his reply, Hux’s fingers itch for a cigarette; not only for the stress relief but also just for something to do with his hands.

He swallowed before nodding minutely.

Phasma gave him a contemplative look, humming before she spoke—mulling over the words carefully.

“I always wondered…” she began, “I’ve been meaning to ask this for some time now, in fact. I never could fathom why you left him.” She exhaled before continuing, smoke curling out from her mouth; “You loved—love rather, it is still obvious that you do very much love him, and from what I’ve gathered he loved you, as well. Perhaps more than you did, perhaps even more than you deserved at the time.” she took a sip of whiskey from the crystal tumbler, “In any case, enough for it to hurt, rather badly.” She added absently, “What I mean is, why did you leave?”

Hux stared at her, equal parts shocked—mostly because whenever Kylo had been mentioned prior she had gotten a pinched almost irritated expression on her face, almost as though she were contemplating something particularly unpleasant and because _she_ had never brought it up before—by her question and reluctant to answer it. He sighed; ruminating over his response, before beginning slowly.

“I never really knew exactly what I was thinking when I walked out. All I wanted was to not be a disappointment,” he snorted, linked his fingers together and licked his lips before continuing; “I was afraid. I was afraid of my feelings and I was afraid of the way I would be treated—would be perceived—after they found out. I was so very young and somehow I had gotten it into my head—convinced myself of this, as though it were fact—that if I tried to do as my father wished of me, then I’d stop feeling like I was always taking a step with the wrong foot. I hadn’t realized I was losing something far more important. That what my father wanted did not have to factor into my life.” He raked his fingers through his hair, fisting some of the strands between his finger and tugging in frustration.

She nodded in understanding.

“So what are you planning?” she asked flippantly, as though they were discussing the weather, not Hux’s future happiness—or unhappiness.

“Is there much I can do? I want him back, but is that actually something I can realistically hope for? I honestly don’t know anymore. He’s not the same. Different, angrier.” He stares at the wall for a moment. “I still want him though.” He admitted, as though it were being torn out of him. Hux hated being uncertain of his course, he planned, that was his strong suit; it helped him with writing, there he was God and he had full control.

She snorted, “Don’t bullshit me, Hux. You should know better, I know you, you plan for everything ten steps in advance, you had to have known from the start that getting him back wouldn’t be easy, don’t lie to me.” another drag from her cigarette. “It’s not like you went in expecting him to fall over himself to get you back.” A sip of whiskey. “What you need to do is show him you’re serious, he doesn’t trust you—with good reason. What you did was inexcusable, and now you need to own up.” She stubbed her cigarette out before rising to her feet, dusting imaginary lint from her black jeans.

“I better get going, date with the wife tonight.” She smiled widely at the mention of her wife of two years and Hux suppressed the ugly envious feeling rising in his chest.

“How is Rey?” Hux asked instead.

“She sends her regards, says she can’t wait to take Lily to the zoo next week.” Phasma added happily, her eyes creasing at the corners. Hux had never seen her look happier than when she talked about Rey and once again he suppressed the envy bubbling up in his throat that threatened to choke him.

Phasma kissed Hux on the cheek before whispering in a low voice, “Don’t screw this up, you’ve been given a rare chance very few people ever get.”

Hux was still sitting on the couch when the door clicked shut behind her.

He checked on his sleeping daughter quickly before taking a quick drive to the one place he probably shouldn’t even dare to set foot in again, but he was desperate.

His heartbeat picked up as the white and black house came into view, the last time he’d been here had been around three years ago.

_Kylo had bought them both horrendously ugly sweaters for the occasion._

_Hux had protested that he wanted to make a good impression on Kylo’s family. Kylo had just smirked and told him not to worry, that he didn’t need to when he made Kylo so obviously happy. His parents wouldn’t care about what Hux looked like or what he wore._

_Hux had been skeptical, what kind of family didn’t care about appearances, after all? Surely they needed to look their best for a holiday dinner. Hux was not spending Christmas with his family this year, his father had been explicit about that fact. So Hux was to spend the holidays with the Organa-Solos._

_He had been nervous when they had knocked the door, both of them wearing matching black and red sweaters with white snowflakes scattered here and there. Hux’s eyes had gone wide at the sight of Kylo’s family; all of them were decked out in the most atrocious attire Hux had ever seen._

_He had wanted to laugh but, instead, he was pulled down to the sofa by strong arms and settled against Kylo’s side, discreetly lacing their fingers together and squeezing. This was safe, the Organa-Solos didn’t think any less of him for this._

_A few moments later, cups of hot cocoa were distributed to the gathering, Hux dropped a kiss on Kylo’s cheek as he handed him a steaming mug, it earned him a dazzling smile and Hux thought that maybe it had been fortunate that he had been banned from Christmas dinner with his family._

He parked across the street and turned the engine off before sitting with his forehead to the steering wheel, trying to calm his frantic heart trying to remind himself why he had to do this now, why it was absolutely necessary.

He walked up slowly to the house and rang the bell, fidgeting with his keys as he waited, the clink of metal almost shrill in the silent interim. A few moments later a woman with deep laugh lines and a severe up do opened the door. Mrs. Organa-Solo; Kylo’s mother, stared at him solemnly before motioning for him to come in.

 

It was a start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Hi guys this is still me, Morgenstern. I just kind of wanted to clean up the account a bit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> look, Hux is an asshole but he loves his kid more than anything, is the moral of the chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments, even though I am not replying to them individually, I have read them all and appreciate them immensely; and of course thank you to everyone who's read so far. Godspeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I want to burn skin and brand what once was mine,_  
>  _But the red news came ripping in to fight._  
>     
>  _If I go anywhere that you want me to go,_  
>  _How do I know you'll still follow?_
> 
> \- "Panic Switch" By Silversun Pickups

Hux was starting to understand how bad an idea it had been to come here. 

But he was here and now he would have to talk to Kylo’s mother and by some miracle convince her to somehow help him. Although now, in retrospect it was beginning to feel rather futile, as Mrs. Organa-Solo—or Leia as she’d tersely told him to call her—placed a tea cup in front of him and a small dish of what smelled like freshly baked cookies.

As the silence stretched between them, Hux was starting to dearly regret his hasty actions. He should have thought this through more thoroughly rather than jump into the fray of things with no back up plan should his request be shot down. 

Finally, _finally,_ after what seemed like hours—decades of awkward silence—Leia cleared her throat and said conversationally, “So what brings you here, after all this time?” Hux was not fooled by the light tone of the inquiry, he knew his answer would determine whether or not he would secure her help. He would have to weigh his words carefully and concisely. 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat he took the leap. 

“I need your help.” He blurted out, resisting the urge to gnaw on his lip or wring his hands. He should’ve had a cigarette before heading here. It would have taken the edge off his already frayed nerves. Being back in this house was doing strange things to his insides. His organs felt as though they had liquefied and were sloshing around nauseatingly. 

“Whatever for?” Leia replied without missing a beat, deceptively sweet.

“With K-Kylo.” Hux stuttered over Kylo’s name,—and hated himself for the show of weakness. The way his voice wavered and his tongue stuttered over his words—feeling like a callow, untried youth asking one of his acquaintances to help him hook up. Except this wasn’t as trivial, nor was he merely looking to “hook up”. 

Leia looked at him for a long time, assessing his sincerity probably. He resisted the urge to squirm under her intense stare. He was a thirty-one year old man with a three year old of his own and he would not be reduced to a teenager no matter how unnerving Kylo’s mother attempted to be. 

“look, Hux,” Leia paused briefly, assessing. “What is it you want from my son? You’ve done enough damage to him as is. What makes you think he’d ever forgive you? Most importantly, what makes you think that I would help you and give you another chance to hurt him?” she asked calmly. Her eyes never leaving the squat cup of tea, yet she seemed to be keenly aware of the minutiae of his every movement. 

Hux sat there in Kylo’s mother’s kitchen and struggled to find the words to convince her that he wouldn’t be the same imbecile he’d been before. How he’d change, but all that comes out instead is, “because I love him.” 

It was simple and cheesy and made Hux feel like he’d just shot himself in the foot, but it was the truth, as petty and unsatisfying as the words were. 

Leia stiffened and looked at him as if offended he’d dare say that after what he’d done to her son. However, all she saw was a grown man with his shoulders hunched over, reeling from a confession he’d rarely said within the confines of his own mind let alone out loud to another person; —not even to her son himself she suspected, which made a fresh well of anger rise up on her son’s behalf—and in that moment Leia understood what it had cost him to come here and why he had left to begin with. 

He was _afraid_. 

It was two very different kinds of fears, to be sure. All those years ago, fear of what he’d gotten himself into—his relationship with Kylo—and now fear of losing him. 

She comes to a decision with that one observation. 

“I will help you;" she assents, "but know this; Kylo loved and trusted you deeply and I saw what your actions had done to him. It won’t be easy to win him over, but if you aren’t serious about this I suggest you give up now, while you can because if you make him trust you again and you betray that trust there is no coming back from that.” Leia looks at him steadily—warningly—for any sign of hesitation and notices the beginnings of what would prove to be a rather impressive black eye. The skin around the eye socket and stretched tight over his cheek bone stained a mottled greenish blue. 

“What happened to your face?” she asked although she had some idea about what happened considering the subject matter at hand. 

“Kylo’s fist happened to my face” Hux snorted, amused despite himself. He carefully skirted around memories of what that punch had led to, schooling his features, with some difficulty into his typical impassive countenance. 

“It’s nice to see my boy has finally grown a back bone, bless him” she smirked and ashed her newly lit cigarette, and once more, Hux’s fingers itch for something to do to keep them occupied. He suddenly felt awkward, as though he were overstaying his welcome. 

He needed to get the fuck out of there. 

“Well,” He says abruptly, rising to his feet. “I better get going. My daughter should be up and about from her nap.” Hux heaved a sigh as he rose from his seat, feeling the relief of leaving Leia’s heavy perusing stare. 

She walked him to the door and leaned on the door frame as she told him one last thing. 

“I can’t guarantee anything.” She began, voice low but determined—lined with a steely undercurrent. “I can set up opportunities…but that’s as far as I’ll go, I can’t change his mind if he doesn’t want it to be changed. That’s all on you. But know that if you hurt him again, you _will_ be sorry.” She closed the door behind him and Hux was left standing in the dimming light of the day, feeling both satisfied and anxious. 

The question was where would he go from here? 

He walked back slowly to his car and entered it on auto pilot, not really registering when he’d sat down and turned the key in the ignition until the car rumbled to life and startled him out of his inattentive stupor. 

The pre-dusk air was cold and damp. A delicate film of dew clinging to his skin uncomfortably as the wind whipped at his face, making his eyes water minutely. There was so much to consider about his predicament. So many variables to be studied. Weighed and balanced on the scales of his internal equilibrium. Truth be told, he was exhausted; spent and dialed up to eleven. For the first time in his life Hux felt well and truly helpless. Lost. 

Lost; had never been a word he’d applied to himself, even when he’d been ostracized from his family. When his father had made his life a living hell he had never felt this particular sense of despondency. It had never felt before like he had absolutely nothing to fall back on but thin air. However, he supposed it had never really been the case until now, he had never been well and truly alone in a situation such as this. 

He reached into his glove compartment at the first red light and fished out his pack of cigarettes, shaking one free—he only had two left, he’d need to buy more when he wasn’t running on a tight schedule—and placed it between his lips before lighting up. The first inhale felt like heaven. He held the smoke in his lungs and tipped his head back; waiting for the burn of the nicotine to rush over him. He’d needed this.

A shrill car horn blared and Hux was jolted out of his nicotine induced haze, jumping slightly in his seat. In truth he’d forgotten he was still in his car, a fact that unnerved him more than he cared to examine. He eased his foot on the gas pedal, driving carefully lest he end up wrapped in a pile of wreckage on the side of the road. He doubted his daughter would appreciate that much. 

The rest of the drive to his apartment had been uneventful, lights streaming and blurring together into vague clusters accentuated by the high notes of the city traffic. He trudged up his three flights of stairs, more tired than he’d previously thought and entered his house.

As was his habit when he first entered, he deposited his keys in the bowl on a table in the foyer and slipped his shoes off; lining them neatly up against the wall beside his daughter’s tiny black ones. 

He padded over to the couch in his sock clad feet and began to clean up the traces of his ex-wife's visit from the living room, loathe to leave anything in less than pristine condition. Once that had been taken care of, he made his way over to Lilianna’s room, steps light and as soundless as possible as he entered the room. 

The walls had been painted a light blue upon her request—she hadn’t liked the color pink and so she had settled on a nice periwinkle blue. The room was sparsely furnished—a bed, a dresser for her clothes, achest of toys and a night stand—leaving a wide open space for play. Hux had found it to be more practical and efficient than cluttering the room up with unnecessary items that she would, no doubt, outgrow quickly. No need to overstimulate the child with excess.

He moved in slowly towards the bed—movements methodical and practiced from years of experience—sitting down lightly at the edge of the mattress and clicking on the lamp on the night stand. He stared for minute at his daughter—illuminated in the soft glow of buttery yellow light—and reached up to stoke her hair back and away from her face gently. She stirred awake with a tiny whimper that melted Hux’s heart and blinked up at him rapidly with startled wide blue eyes. 

Hux signed out a ‘rise and shine’ to her, his hands moving in front of him as he mouthed the words to match his gestures, making sure she could see his lips clearly as he did so. He did this because he wanted her to learn and what better way was there to learn than practice. He wanted her to be able to communicate in all the avenues available to her and so he went out of his way to teach her all of them. That was not to mention his obsessive preoccupation with the fact that her hearing might further deteriorate into full deafness. It was a precaution, really, more than anything.

Lilianna had been born partially deaf—the left ear, in particular, was significantly weaker than the right—Hux had not cared in the slightest, at least not beyond his concern for his daughter and how she would be affected by it. Her hearing had gotten gradually worse as she’d gotten older to the point where she had had to be fitted with a hearing aid on the left ear. Hux combed his fingers through her hair and smiled slightly as she fumbled over signing him a ‘good afternoon’. He waited for her to tell him to help her with her hearing aid, it was an exercise. She had to either tell him by sign or ask him verbally. 

She chose to use her words, lisping over the request and Hux reached forward, opening the night stand drawer and retrieved the small white case that housed her hearing aid. He removed it with careful practiced hands; brushing his daughter’s red curls out of the way, and slotted the piece of plastic into place, making sure that it was properly situated and functional and wouldn’t cause any irritation. He lets the curtain of curls cover her ear once more—she preferred it as such, although he was not sure why, precisely. He hoped it wasn’t out of shame. He made a mental note to speak to her about it at a later date and possibly reassure her if that was necessary.

Once everything was situated in its designated place, Hux gathered Lilianna into his arms and whispers a simple _I love you_ , against her right ear where she was sure to hear it. 

His chest tightened painfully at the answering _I wove you, too, daddy._

***

 

Kylo had work. A truly astonishing amount of work to get done.

He’d been neglecting his art lately and he needed to get focused for his upcoming exhibition. He was going for the theme of beauty in the mundane, he was using a lot of blacks, whites and shades of grey as well as muted skin tones and some washed out color to complement and offset the overall gloom. It was a beautiful collection that Kylo felt was representative of his own artistic sensibilities in a way his previous works and shows had only hinted at. It was an exhibition for his paintings primarily but he had decided to include a few photographs, just because he could.

Currently he was working on a piece that was as of yet unnamed. The pale featureless man had plagued him for days—refusing to leave him be and he had finally decided to give in and translate him onto canvas, his lean tall body, —long lines stretching, neat shape elongated and elegant—his hands outstretched as if in admiration or offering, spidery fingers bleeding into black, running down the canvas and his eerily featureless face that still seemed to convey a certain character about it with the sharp cut of cheekbones. By the time he was done he had noticed why the image wouldn’t leave him alone, it was Hux but without the distinctive facial feature it hadn’t been obvious, at first.

Kylo smiled sadly at the painting. Even when he tried to get on with his work he was still back where he was three years ago. Sketching Hux when he wasn’t paying attention and painting him because he was like art in motion to a young artist who’d had more heart than common sense. 

Sometimes Kylo missed that simple minded happiness and contentment he’d had, it weakened his resolve and staunched his anger. He missed the stability, he missed the reassurance of another human being. Of Hux, because Hux who was just as broken in different parts would never judge him. Become exasperated? Definitely. Become demanding and sometime act like a total prick? Kylo expected it as par for the course. However, when it came down to it, the bottom line was that Kylo had never felt judged by Hux, even when his actions would have warranted it. 

Could Hux have really changed? Did it really matter if he had? Could Kylo trust him? 

Kylo didn’t have any answers to his questions—not yet—but he wanted to find out. He wouldn’t make it easy, though. Truth be told, it wouldn’t be easy for either of them. 

He figured that the best things in life were always the hardest to get to and this would be no exception. 

 

***

 

Hux raced to his ringing phone, still naked and his hair dripping all over his carpet.

He skidded a few inches past his coffee table before catching himself on the back of the sofa and moving closer to his phone. Breathing heavily, he snatched it from its cradle, and breathed out a quick “Hello” that sounded more like “yellow.”

“Took you long enough.” The voice announced with no preamble and briefly Hux contemplated hanging up but his curiosity won out. “It’s Leia. Now I don’t have time to chat, nor do I care to, for that matter, but I’m informing you now that Kylo has an exhibition next week at the new gallery his brother is opening, you know where it is—everyone does it’s in the newspaper…anyways, your invitation’s in the mail. you should consider being there, Ta!” as soon as she was finished speaking she hung up and Hux stood there, —still very naked and dripping water onto his hardwood floor and Persian carpet—with the dial tone ringing in his ear, his hair dripping onto his shoulders and a distinct sense of confusion overwhelming him.

He’d understood enough though. He’d go—make an appearance—and he’d do whatever it took to gain back even a miniscule fraction of Kylo’s trust. Or at least lessen Kylo’s hatred towards him. Or maybe not get punched in the face again. Baby steps.

He’d gain Kylo’s trust eventually; even if they had to learn to be friends all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr [here](murderdollls.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
